Jack Rafferty’s 2021 Music List

 By Jack Rafferty

I’ve been in quite a stagnant creative ditch in 2021. Not much reading, not much writing, not much film, not much music. Regardless, I’ve tried my best to play catch up, and there were indeed some genuinely phenomenal albums this year. What else? Umm, Gojira released a new album this year, and it isn’t in my top albums. That’s fuckin weird. More about that below, I guess. Like last year, I’ve thrown out the whole ranking thing. There are albums I loved more than others, that’s for sure. If there were a ranking, Lingua Ignota’s new one would surely be at the top. No questions, just as it was with Caligula. 

Top Albums

Lingua Ignota, Sinner Get Ready.

It is pretty much solidified at this point that if Lingua releases an album during a year, that album will be my top album of that year. Sinner Get Ready sees a slight departure from the harsher soundscapes of Caligula, with a greater focus on folk and gospel influences, but that in no way means it is diminished in its intensity. Soft and sinister, sorrowful, heart-rending. Words will not do this album justice. Just go listen to it. (Side note: I also really enjoyed Lignua’s EP released earlier in the year, Agnus Dei, but it in no way compares to the full length release.) 

Moor Mother and Billy Woods, Brass.

Billy Woods and Moor Mother’s individual contributions to rap/hip hop cannot be understated, and they have both contributed to some of my favorite releases of recent years. So when I saw they were doing a collaboration project, I was excited but didn’t want to set my expectations too high until I heard what they put out. Any expectations I could have set would have been too low. Brass is incredible. Singular and standalone. Best lyrics of the year by far. Billy and Moor Mother are each at their best on this project. That is truly saying something. This album, to me, is genre-bending and also genre-defining. It would be criminal to pass this up. 

Nick Shoulders, Home on the Rage.

Nick Shoulders has been one of the artists I have consistently listened to since discovering him at the beginning of 2020. He and a few other artists have really kept me going through a lot in these times, and his music has accompanied many wonderful memories that it will now remind me of—that, and the resilience of fighting back suicidal thoughts in the daily nightmares of late capitalism. Home on the Rage is a noticeably more somber album than his previous releases. Nick has never shied away from politics, but it seems more prominent here. “John Brown’s Nightmare” is perhaps my favorite example of this. A lyricless mouthbow tune, it conveys everything it needs to with the title. A lower, darker, more resonant and eerie rendition of the folk tune “John Brown’s Dream,” which gains such potency and poignancy just from changing “dream” to “nightmare.” Others, such as the title track, have great lines like 

Why seek to conserve in nothing but name?

We know Rome’s been burning, and we play a rigged game

Our heritage is hate, though there’s plenty to save

How can the land of the free be the home of the slave.

Every track is wonderful in its own way. 

Knocked Loose, A Tear in the Fabric of Life.

No album got more listens from me this year than this one. Knocked Loose trades in some of the more raw, hardcore-leaning aspects of their earlier sound for a denser quality that tends toward metal, but still retains the core of what makes the band what it is. This is easily their heaviest release. The rawness is still present, don’t let that initial line deceive. I haven’t stopped playing this since first hearing it. Knocked Loose has been a favorite of mine since Laugh Tracks, but this is something else. It is also short and sweet, whereas I felt that A Different Shade of Blue was a bit long-winded for the genre. The eerie intro of radio tracks and tires screeching away, leading into that first scream, is perfect. Moments such as the breakdown on “Contorted in the Faille” just make you wanna burn and break shit. The more death metal influenced riffing on tracks like “God Knows” are also very welcome from me. Overall, this album is truly unrelenting, and was the only one to really scratch that itch of pure fucking aggression for me this year. I also got to see them live and it was the gnarliest pit I’ve ever been in. 

Emma Ruth Rundle, Engine of Hell.

This is one of the saddest albums I’ve ever heard. I’ve always been a fan of Emma, but Engine of Hell is on another level. The vulnerability of each song is so tangible. I feel like Emma is going to break down at the end of each line. The production on this album is also magnificent. The clarity of her voice, the acoustic strings, the piano, everything is perfectly distinct yet so rich and melding so well. 

Show Me The Body, Survive.

This three track EP was my most-listened to thing this year, next to Knocked Loose. I absolutely love Show Me The Body, and Survive, though bittersweet in how short it is, really honed in on all the best elements of their sound. Few bands capture the right sounds to convey my feelings of discontent with so many things like them. 

Still Loved

Armand Hammer/The Alchemist, Haram.

Another great release from a project involving Billy Woods. Armand Hammer has been consistently amazing since its inception, with Billy and Elucid being two of the most enigmatic, complex, and talented artists in the genre. 

Black Midi, Cavalcade.

This one didn’t resonate with me as much as Midi’s debut. I chock this up mainly to mood and context of listening, because I think Cavalcade is a great album. It sees Midi going in an even more adventurous and experimental direction, which is a wonderful thing. Midi is one of those bands that can do such a thing naturally, without it feeling forced or pretentious. I’m sure I’ll be in the mood for something like this again down the line and will revisit this one then.  

Riddy Arman, Riddy Arman.

I pay pretty close attention to the youtube channel Western As Fuck, as I really appreciate the attention to sound and video quality they have with the artists they work with, and I also love the moments before and after each performance they depict that give humanity and personality to each artist. I discovered Riddy through them, and have been a fan ever since. The first performance of hers that I saw gave me chills. With this self-titled debut, Riddy has really solidified herself right away as someone to keep an eye on. There were some tracks throughout that didn’t grab me as much as I had hoped, but I still love much of this album. Notable tracks are “Spirits, Angels, or Lies,” “Barbed Wire,” and “Old Maid’s Draw.” 

Viagra Boys, Welfare Jazz.

I was hooked on Viagra Boys from the beginning, especially as my introduction to them was both through their sound but also their peculiar character as a band. Their roguish dirtbag persona has been attempted in many ways throughout the years, but they put a certain spin on the perspective that is oddly intoxicating. It is hard to explain. Somewhat reminiscent of the visual and performance art of Aldous Harding in a different way. I enjoyed their Street Worms more than Welfare Jazz, as it had a more raw and gritty presentation, which I think better fits their style, but Welfare Jazz still has many standout moments. It also closes out with a very unexpected cover of John Prine and Iris DeMent’s “In Spite of Ourselves.” Very much recommend watching a performance of them while listening for the first time. 

Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, Carnage.

Easily some of the best lyrics of the year. Nick Cave rarely fails to deliver for me. “White Elephant,” especially, has some of my favorite lines he has ever written. 

A protester kneels on the neck of a statue

The statue says, “I can’t breathe”

The protester says, “Now you know how it feels”

And he kicks it into the sea…

I’m a Botticelli Venus with a penis

Riding an enormous scalloped fan

I’m a sea foam woman rising from the spray

And I’m coming to do you harm

I’m an ice sculpture melting in the sun

I’m an ice sculpture with an elephant gun

I’m an ice sculpture made of elephant-sized tears

Raining gas and salt upon your heads

The compositions have a more overtly neo-classical essence to them, and Nick’s signature melancholy crooning has regained some of its aggression and venom from earlier days. Carnage is less mournful than Ghosteen and Skeleton Tree, and seems to revisit some of the more bluesy, dangerous spaces reminiscent of Murder Ballads. Loved this. 

Black Country, New Road, For the First Time.

This band has apparently been making waves for a bit now, but this was my first encounter with them. I had no idea what to expect going into For the First Time, and was very pleasantly surprised. Oscillating between indie-rock, electronic, and much more, this is a hard one to nail down in description. The lyrics have a certain self-awareness and self-deprecation that is reminiscent of something like David Foster Wallace, in that those lyrics often tend to remind me of the topics or objects Wallace covered. The most important thing to note about this band and its sound, however, is its energy. Everything has a sort of vibrancy and urgency to it, often building toward satisfying crescendos. Really loved this, and for a while thought it might make my top albums of the year. It got close, just not quite there. 

Backxwash, I Lie Here Buried With My Rings and My Dresses.

Backxwash came to my attention last year with God Has Nothing to Do with This Leave Him, and immediately struck me as a unique musical identity. Combining elements of hip hop, industrial, black metal, and much more. The soundscape is one of demented torment, somewhat like Daughters or Ho99o9, but in a much different way. This one is another that is difficult to properly describe without doing its complexity a disservice, and is best simply experienced, rather than interpreted. 

Archspire, Bleed the Future.

So far, I think I still prefer Relentless Mutation. That being said, Bleed the Future is pretty damn close. Again just not as much in the place in my life where this music resonates with me as much, so it is difficult to say. This is Archspire continuing to do what they do best, which is make exceptionally fast and wonderful tech death. That’s all I ever wanted from this album, and they delivered. 

Honorable Mentions, or Still Have Something to Say

Gojira, Fortitude.

This one was a major disappointment. Next to Lingua’s new release, this was my most anticipated for the year. This isn’t a bad album, it just isn’t up to Gojira’s caliber. The best tracks on this album, such as the opener, would be the least interesting tracks on their other albums. They are still great tracks, but they fall short given context. I gave this one a lot of attempts, wondering if it was just different and would grow on me over time. It never did, though. Perhaps down the road my mind will change. Doubtful, though. 

Rivers of Nihil, The Work.

Another huge disappointment for this year. Their previous album, Where Owls Know My Name, was easily one of my favorite albums of the year when it came out. I had big expectations for The Work, and it really fell flat for me. Not sure exactly why. I think it is a combination of multiple things that are hard to put my finger on. It seems more bloated, directionless, lacking an identity, etc. Not quite sure specifically what, but I struggled getting through it each listen. Perhaps in time I’ll find something about it that I missed before. 

Low, Hey What.

Never heard anything like this. Very interesting. Unfortunately it becomes somewhat repetitive throughout. I love the opener, “White Horses.” Excellent vocal harmonies. I wish they could keep that level of quality while also diversifying throughout. Noise as a genre can tend to have this effect on me. I will keep my attention on this group, though. 

Sadistik, L’appel Du Vide.

This is another case where I just don’t think I was in the headspace to love a release from Sadistik this year. Though I do think this one has less of a wow-factor than previous releases. I’ve been drifting away from Sadistik the past couple years. I will still give a good amount of his back catalogue a listen from time to time. This isn’t a bad release by any means. Just didn’t strike me as much. 

Albums I May Make a Follow-Up List For

These are some albums that I either didn’t get around to, or felt like I didn’t spend sufficient time with to be able to give a fair opinion on. I may end up making a “post-end of the year list” or something for these. 

Mastodon, Hushed and Grim.

Zeal and Ardor, Gotterdammerung.

Vildhjarta, masstaden under vatten.

Twelve Foot Ninja, Vengeance.

Portal, Avow.

Japanese Breakfast, Jubilee.

Tyler, the Creator, Call Me If You Get Lost.

Turnstile, Glow On.

Dvne, Etemen Enka.

Injury Reserve, By the Time I Get to Phoenix.

Floating Points, Pharoah Sanders, London Symphony Orchestra, Promises.

Little Simz, Sometimes I Might Be Introvert.

Sierra Ferrell, Long Time Coming.

The Armed, Ultrapop.

Panopticon, …And Again into the Light.

Michael Hurley, The Time of the Foxgloves.

Converge and Chelsea Wolfe, Bloodmoon: I.

Iceage, Seek Shelter.

Be’lakor, Coherence.

Richard Dawson and Circle, Henki.

Hooded Menace, The Tritonus Bell.

Havukruunu, Kuu Erkylan Ylla.

Humanity’s Last Breath, Valde.

Neil Young with Crazy Horse, Barn (2021)

By SoDak

I commend Neil Young for remaining an active musician for so many years. His forty-first studio record, Barn, was released in December 2021. I have every one of his records, including the best of collections, live recordings, and bootlegs. With every new release, I think maybe this will be a good record. Unfortunately, this is often not the case. In fact, to be quite honest, it has been a very long time since Neil has released a great record. He has a handful of incredible records, for me this includes: Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, After the Gold Rush, On the Beach, Harvest Moon, Silver & Gold, Decades (a collection), and Unplugged (live). He has quite a few good records, which include some extraordinary songs. “Old Man,” from Harvest, remains a favorite. There are many other great songs, and it is on this basis that his reputation is built. The problem is that there is a huge amount of garbage in his discography. I have long known this, as I have followed his work throughout my life. I do appreciate that he is never really content and wants to explore different styles and sounds. Not everything is going to land and resonate with me. 

In a recent interview, Neil Young discussed the importance of his archive project, sorting through old bootlegs and unreleased recordings. I love his passion for this work and some gems have certainly surfaced as a result. He also noted that he is always looking forward, wanting to make new music. This is also something that I really like about him. But so much of the new music seems incomplete. 

On Barn, Neil Young and Crazy Horse recorded in an old barn in the Rockies, which seems like a great idea. It certainly ignites romantic notions. But listening to the record extinguishes any sparks of excitement. The songs, whether they are folky or rocking, are plodding. As with many of the previous records, this one feels like a jam session. As Neil said in an interview, he showed up at the barn with the lyrics and the music for “Human Race.” He showed the song to the folks in Crazy Horse, telling them to give it their best, as they were going to record it in one take. I get that he wants to capture the raw, unbridled feeling. But this is not always very interesting, and it is not working here. Many songs need to be rehearsed, letting musicians explore the song itself and figure out what they can contribute to it. Some songs need to bake for a while to be transformed into something extraordinary. Unfortunately, it seems that Neil Young does not want to spend time refining and crafting excellent songs at this point. Instead, we get another collection of songs where the band knocks out the basics and Neil Young mutters the words. While listening to the record, my wife commented that, “his singing is horrible and he is out of tune—how can folks put out records like this?” She is not wrong. Neil is approaching my territory, as no one ever wants to hear me sing. The lyrics, whether they are personal or political, are perfectly fine. The big issue is that songs themselves are not presented in a way for me to internalize them. They do not generate interest or a desire to invest in listening to them. As a result, they will not be woven into my life, like so many of his classic songs. Instead, they will be forgotten. Until the next release, I remain naively hopeful that Neil Young will devote more time to crafting excellent songs, as such a record is long overdue. 

Ian’s Favorite Music in 2021

By Ian

1. Ovlav, Buds (2021).

This album came out pretty late in the year. November might as well qualify as the following year, as we all scramble to arrange obligations of family, business, etc. What got me though was how intimate this album sounded. I’ve always been a fan of Ovlov, with their loud, alt-rock sensibilities channeled through mounds of fuzz and pounding drums. This album actually took a stripped-back approach. The distortion and steady punk thumping remain, but within lays a wonderfully comfortable, approachable album for those old and new to Ovlov’s catalog. The song “Feel the Pain” especially encapsulates this. The last song on the album rides along on four-chord 1-2-3-4 riffs until, surprise, distortion reigns supreme and a blast beat makes its way into the frantic wall of fuzzy noise, carrying the song into its inevitable conclusion.  

2. Little Kid, Transfiguration Highway (2020).

I originally became familiar with Little Kid when I thankfully stumbled upon a YouTube link that tantalizingly rested in the recommended sidebar of some other video. God only knows what that original catalyst page may have been, but whatever it was led me to Little Kid’s 2017 album, Sun Milk. It’s hard to describe exactly why I like this band so much. Little Kid’s music is tinged with Christian themes, but it is also blended with slice of life stories that pepper the album. I find it all to be a very wholesome experience, so maybe that’s why. 

3. Disimperium, Malefic Obliteration (2021).

I am a metalhead by trade. I make it, I breath it, I love it. If there’s one thing I really love in metal, it’s songs that are almost all blast beats. “Dynamics” are cool and all, but nothing is more cool to me than relentless, uncompromising blast beats and riffs that are almost incomprehensible among the onslaught of noise. This EP is only 3 songs in total, but I have high hopes for this band. 

4. Richard Lockwood, In the Doorway of the Dawn (2012).

There is so much to say about this album (compilation). This Aussie, bearded man has crafted so many wonderful, beautiful songs for years and years and only released them in 2012. I’m hearing it now, 19 years later. This collection is immaculate. It’s reminiscent of early prog, a la King Crimson and Yes. Of course, the music is similar to many 1970s folk outfits, but it’s all this one guy who was just off the radar for who knows how long. Either way, it’s a wonderful collection of eclectic folk songs from a man who deserves far more recognition. 

5. maudlin of the Well, Bath (2001).

Those of whom are familiar with Kayo Dot will know what I’m mean when I say maudlin is necessary for avant garde metal. This album is chock full of atmosphere, riffs, and other curveballs that average extreme music listeners may have never had the pleasure of having packed into any album they’ve listened to. I fortunately happened upon this during 2020, when I found myself at home with nothing else to do but tool around YouTube and Encyclopedia Metallum archives to find new things. If you color yourself an enjoyer of the “artful” side of extreme music, do yourself a favor and listen to maudlin. If you do not, listen to Kayo Dot. If you don’t like that stuff either, I dunno what to tell you. Open your mind, maybe. 

Ricky Schroder (1970-2021)

 The following post is part of the imaginary obituaries series.

Conservative celebrity, subpar actor, Ricky Schroder died this past weekend in his California home. Ironically, he choked to death shoveling foie gras down his gullet with a silver spoon. He was celebrating the acquittal of Kyle Rittenhouse, who Schroder had previously donated over a hundred thousand dollars for bail. Schroder was primarily known for his acting roles as a spoiled rich kid in the television show Silver Spoons and a detective in NYPD Blue. In real life, he was also a prick, opposing Black Lives Matter, promoting anti-vaccination, committing violence against loved ones, and protesting Foo Fighters concerts, arguing that vaccination requirements are equilivent to segregation. Perhaps, Schroder’s mother said it best when she was asked to reflect upon her son, “Every day of his life, I wish I would have had an abortion.” 

The Heart of Rochford

By SoDak

On cold, November evenings, the smoke climbs to the moon, as it escapes from the rusting chimney that sits precariously on the roof of a ghostly wooden bar in Rochford, South Dakota. A few pickup trucks, belonging to the locals, are parked in front of the porch, where a black Labrador lays watching the mice scurry across the gravel road, which leads to a highway. From the junction that is twenty-three miles away, it is still over half an hour to the nearest city.

Rochford is an old mining town, composed of a few houses, a general store, a church, and, most importantly, the Moonshine Gulch, the bar. Some of the locals work for the U.S. Forest Service, others raise a few cattle, and almost all of them, historically, have run off developers. There are a few old timers, as well as a handful of redneck-hippies, nestled in the gullies between the rolling hills that are surrounded by the yellowed Great Plains where herds of cattle and sheep graze.

The Moonshine Gulch is the heart of this community. The building shows its age and seems quite fragile. Inside there are a few tables with chairs, a couple of wooden booths, and a small counter with stools. An old oil drum, turned on its side, serves as a wood stove. A jukebox, stocked with songs by Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, and Willie Nelson, keeps the toes tapping on the uneven plank floor. The pool table was vanquished to make room for weekend hootenannies. Hats and business cards adorn the ceiling. The cap with the foam boobs draws attention to itself among the standard hats with names of electrical companies and other businesses printed across them. Drawings of outhouses, horses, and political satire cover the walls. A sign promoting this year’s gun raffle to raise money for the volunteer fire department is posted on the wall. A beautiful painting of this poor man’s paradise, the Moonshine Gulch, is proudly displayed behind the counter, above the door, which leads to the kitchen where Betsy, the owner, cooks homecut fries, grilled cheese, hamburgers, and Campbell’s Soup, if one desires. While food is not the reason that people head to the Moonshine, it adds comfort to the experience, as Betsy adds something extra special, a little extra seasoning. She is the pulse of the Moonshine, as she greets each person, who enters through the front door. Locals sit on the stools at the counter to catch up on happenings and gossip. When vagabonds find this out of the way place, Betsy solicits life stories and intentions from these strangers. Part of this is due to curiosity and another part reflects a tradition of hospitality in these hills, even as new folks buy up land and build big homes, threatening to undo what has long been so special about this place.

For many years, Roy was a fixture at the Moonshine. He sat at a table, next to the counter, lighting cigarette after cigarette, while drinking beer through the midnight hours. From this position, he watched the happenings of this world, rarely speaking, except to locals. Despite the appearance of disdain and disinterest on his face, he was not grouchy. As Betsy’s husband, he tended to the fire and a customer from time to time if more than a few folks drifted into the place. On a rare occasion, he would cut the potatoes and cook the fries, but this was only if Betsy had headed to town for supplies. Otherwise, until his death, Roy sat in his chair rubbing the scar on his arm, left by the metal stitches that long ago closed an injury.

Betsy remains the guardian of this sanctuary. Almost every night of the year, she is hugging friends and strangers, sharing stories, taking photos, distributing beers, and cooking meals. Her love for life and this place burns hotter than the glowing metal drum, which she feeds throughout the day, as whiffs of smoke escape, climbing to the ceiling, searching for a crack between the boards, to float towards the celestial stars, which envelope this home in the Black Hills. 

Spooner D and Me

 By SoDak

The breeze feels like spring, 

bringing memories from thirty years ago,

when we were driving

through the hills

and you showed me 

all of those places 

that one day we would call

our own.

Thunder and Consolation

intertwined our lives

with the power of song.

“I love the world”

and I think of you, 

sitting by the campfire, 

laughing at our follies,

basking in the glow of the moon, 

above Castle Peak, 

when life was uninterrupted.

Today, I am reminded of 

“these valleys of the green and the grey,”

as the sun is out

and the clouds look the same 

as they did thirty years ago.

Spring always feels lonelier,

when you are miles away,

but these memories

are an embrace, 

waiting for your return.